


How Can I Help

by ZuviosGemini



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Sticky, pre slash leading to slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 20:29:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2082084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZuviosGemini/pseuds/ZuviosGemini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wheeljack finds himself in a "sticky" situation and finally gives in, comming Ratchet for some help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Can I Help

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a response to [this](http://skymachine.tumblr.com/post/93813319036/really-long-nsfw-thing-under-the-cut-more-me/) and [this](http://skymachine.tumblr.com/post/93822933596/still-thinking-about-that-wheeljack-fic-prompt/). HOPE YOU LIKE IT, AMARA AND CAMI.

“Run that by me again?” Ratchet said into the comm link, struggling to hear over the sound of what appeared to be fans on high speed.

“I said I need help.” He heard Wheeljack gasp. The puzzle pieces clicked into place and Ratchet sighed. He should have figured it out sooner, given Wheeljack’s four day absence without a single comm.

“You’re in heat and you didn’t bother to come and seek medical attention?”

“Doc, you better hope no one heard you say that, or you and I are gonna have a serious chat later.” Wheeljack said, but the anger wasn’t there. He was too busy gasping into the comm and when Ratchet heard a tiny groan, he sighed again.

“How have you been remedying your symptoms?”

“I’ve got four fingers in my valve, and I’m lubricating so much that I could probably fit more in there if I tried. I’ve overloaded more times than I count, and no matter what, I’m back at it minutes later. I can’t find any relief and I’m filthy and exhausted and I can’t do a fragging thing about it.”

Ratchet swallowed hard. His relationship with Wheeljack was complicated at best, but he no longer bothered to deny his attraction to the cowboy.

“How can I help?” He said warily.

“Get over here and help me.” Wheeljack snarled into the comm, groaning again. Ratchet took a second to gather himself before walking over to the ground bridge.

“Alright, I’ll be at your location shortly.” He said before closing down the link. The ground bridge powered up and he walked through, knowing what he was getting into and feeling a little thrilled by it. He came out of the ground bridge in front of the Jackhammer and approached the door, knocking on it.

“Wheeljack?”

The door opened and Ratchet hadn’t even gotten fully inside the ship when he was grabbed and slammed against a wall, Wheeljack’s extremely hot frame burning against him. Wheeljack’s hands were covered in lubricant and he held onto Ratchet’s arms, panting against his mouth before kissing him.

“Do something about this, wouldja?” Wheeljack said, grabbing Ratchet’s hand and forcing it between his legs, trying to press the fingers inside him. Primus, he really was gushing lubricant, and Ratchet felt his spike pressing against his panel already. He purposely ignored it and took his hand back, gripping Wheeljack’s shoulders and pushing him back.

“Wheeljack, really. You must get a hold of yourself. This is highly inappropriate behavior—“

Wheeljack was stronger than he was at the moment because of the heat, and pressed against him again, making Ratchet realize just how far gone Wheeljack was at this point. Attraction or not, it was Ratchet’s job as medical officer to help his teammates however he could, and that apparently now included fragging them while they were in heat. He sighed and got a grip on Wheeljack’s arms, holding them still.

“Do I have your consent as the medical officer of this team to assist you in relieving your heat symptoms?”

Wheeljack actually whined, a strange sound considering the pitch of his voice, and squirmed in his grip.

“Yeah yeah whatever, sure. I consent, now frag me. I’m dying here.”

Ratchet nodded and guided Wheeljack back against one of the ship’s consoles, forcing the smaller mech to sit back on the surface. Ratchet immediately took note of Wheeljack’s extremely stretched out valve and the amount of fluids that was dripping from it. When he said he had been using four fingers, he wasn’t kidding. The valve was wide open, exposing all the biolights on the inside and clenching around nothing.

“I know I got a nice valve, but when I said frag me, I meant with your spike, not with your optics.” Wheeljack huffed, spreading his legs wider. Ratchet smirked at him and clicked open his interface panel, letting his spike pressurize. Wheeljack slid forward and right onto the medic’s spike, making him shout in surprise.

“Wheeljack!” Ratchet scolded, hands grabbing onto the other mech’s hips as he started to fuck himself on Ratchet’s spike, throwing his head back and groaning loudly.

“Primus, that is way better than my fingers.” He gasped, rolling his hips back and forth. Ratchet gripped his hips tighter and started meeting him thrust for thrust, gasping and pulling Wheeljack closer, almost completely off the console. It had been a while since his last frag, so it seemed Wheeljack wouldn't be the only one getting some relief.

Wheeljack overloaded alarmingly fast, throwing his head back and shouting, his valve clenching around Ratchet and making the medic grit his dentae. He had probably been close when he called Ratchet. Just like he said earlier, Wheeljack only rested for a minute or so before wrapping his legs around Ratchet’s waist and staring at him, optics bright.

“Again.” He demanded.

Ratchet hefted Wheeljack off the console only to put him down on the floor of the Jackhammer, thrusting his spike back into Wheeljack, making him gasp.

“Alright we’ll go again.” Ratchet said. “We’ll keep going until you’re satisfied.” He gave another hard thrust, digging his fingers into the joint of Wheeljack’s hip to keep him from sliding away from him. Wheeljack growled and wrapped his hand around Ratchet’s wrist as the medic began thrusting into him rhythmically. He lifted his helm and watched Ratchet’s spike disappear into him, grinning when he saw Ratchet watching him in turn.

“You have to watch?” Ratchet asked, a little embarrassed. Wheeljack kept grinning.

“Am I not supposed to?” He said cheekily. Ratchet put his hand on Wheeljack’s chassis, forcing him back down.

“You’re ridiculous.”

When Wheeljack lifted his helm again, Ratchet reached out and put his hand on Wheeljack’s throat. He almost pulled away in surprise when Wheeljack groaned, his optics closing.

“Oh yeah, now we’re talking.” He said with a laugh. Ratchet pressed down experimentally and felt a ripple run through Wheeljack’s valve. So, he was into that kind of thing? Alright, Ratchet could work with that. He tightened his grip and used it to keep Wheeljack still, pistoning his hips into the smaller mech, Wheeljack’s moans filling his audios.

A sticky puddle was starting to form underneath them. Ratchet leaned forward, catching Wheeljack’s mouth in a kiss, feeling the grooves of the scars on his lip components against his own lips. He was starting to get more into it, his armor flaring to let steam vent out, and he bit down on Wheeljack’s lips, sucking on the hot metal and humming when Wheeljack groaned again, overload roaring through him again and threatening to take Ratchet down with it.

Ratchet was teetering on the edge, and he managed to stay there as Wheeljack groaned underneath him, shaking.

“A-again.” Wheeljack gasped. Ratchet let go of his neck and pulled out, smiling at the needy sound Wheeljack made and watching streams of lubricant leak onto the floor, adding to the mess. Some strings were still attached to his spike, bowing and dripping until they too hit the ground.

“Come on, sunshine, don’t leave me hanging.” Wheeljack said, shifting to put a hand to his valve again. Ratchet stopped him, leaning over him.

“And what if I did?” He asked. Wheeljack glared.

“You wouldn’t.” He countered. Ratchet smirked.

“Flip over, Wheeljack.” He ordered.

Wheeljack’s optical ridges shot up.

“What?”

“Flip over.”

Wheeljack’s surprise melted into his usual smug expression and he chuckled.

“Can’t do that if you’re leaning on me, doc.”

Ratchet shifted back further and grabbed Wheeljack’s hips, flipping him over himself and making him yelp. Ratchet then adjusted his grip and pulled Wheeljack’s hips up, leaving him with his aft in the air and his head and chassis flat on the floor.

The continuous flow of lubricant was now running down Wheeljack’s thighs and Ratchet shoved back into him immediately, making the other mech cry out. This time, Ratchet kept his eyes on Wheeljack’s valve, watching the folds of it stretch around his spike and groaning.

“Like what you see, doc?” Wheeljack said, keeping his hands braced on the ground to keep his body from sliding forward. Ratchet was pounding into him now, making him moan with each thrust. His heat had started to ebb after the last overload, so now he was just enjoying the constant press of the spike inside him, rubbing against all the sensitive nodes inside him, and putting pressure against his anterior node as well.

His moans began to get mixed with curses and shouts, his hands starting to curl into talons on the floor as he felt another overload building.

“Oh Primus,” he gasped, not even realizing that he had closed his optics until he forced one open, glancing at Ratchet. The other mech had his optics closed as well, his mouth hanging open as he kept thrusting, the feeling of Wheeljack’s valve squeezing him tight making him go faster. Wheeljack keened when Ratchet thrust hard enough to hit the ceiling of his valve, cursing again.

Ratchet could feel his overload mounting, his own moans taking on a desperate edge. Wheeljack kept his optic locked on Ratchet, shivering and moaning right back at him. Ratchet hunched over him, blanketing Wheeljack with his frame.

“D-Doc, ah, come on. Make my day.” Wheeljack managed to say. Ratchet’s optics opened, cycling before narrowing.

“I’ll do more than that.” Ratchet growled. Wheeljack cried out when Ratchet reached around in front of him and roughly massaged his anterior node, still thrusting into him. Wheeljack was shouting now, scrabbling for purchase on the ground as the most sensitive part of his valve was assaulted relentlessly.

“SLAG yes.” He shouted, his overload turning his shout into an almost scream as he writhed, whole frame rattling as he shook, unable to get away from the fingers still rubbing him and making his vocalizer short out. Ratchet overloaded with a shout of his own, pumping his hips in and out, groaning when he felt transfluid pushing out of Wheeljack’s valve in bunches. There was no room for it in Wheeljack’s valve on top of the copious amounts of lubricant already coating the inside. Wheeljack was nothing but a whimpering mess underneath him when he finally collapsed, pressing Wheeljack fully into the floor as he lay atop him.

“By the All Spark.” Ratchet gasped, making Wheeljack chuckle.

“You said it, sunshine.”

Ratchet didn’t have the energy to snap at him for the nickname, so he just sighed, resisting the urge to smile when Wheeljack shifted under him.

“You wanna get off me now? You’re heavy.” Wheeljack mumbled. Ratchet hummed and did nothing, content to just lie there. Wheeljack had other ideas obviously because he shoved ratchet off of him roughly, sending the other mech onto his back. Ratchet opened his mouth to give Wheeljack a good tongue lashing when the other mech snuggled up next to him, dragging a finger up the length of Ratchet’s still exposed spike.

“Let’s not make this a one time thing okay?” Wheeljack rumbled. Ratchet huffed and depressurized his spike, snapping his panel closed.

“Yes I know, I’ll have to come back when you go into heat again—“

“Not what I’m saying.” Wheeljack interrupted, lifting his head and smiling. Ratchet blinked rapidly before sputtering.

“Oh. W-well I suppose we could, but I’m not sure—“

“I don’t wanna talk details right now, just shut up and hold me. I’m exhausted and I need to recharge.”

Ratchet snorted.

“You need to hit the washracks.” He said flatly, looking down at the absolute wreck Wheeljack had made of himself.

“I will later. Now be quiet.” Wheeljack mumbled, making himself comfortable against Ratchet before closing his optics. Ratchet lifted his arm from where it was on the floor and slid it around Wheeljack’s waist, holding him close, a little smile spreading across his face.


End file.
